


Kids Will Be Skeletons

by Windybird



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Coming of Age, F/F, F/M, Multi, abuse of power by authority figures, albeit a really weird coming of age, in which Prim becomes a badass at age twelve
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 11:45:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9322154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Windybird/pseuds/Windybird
Summary: In which Primrose Everdeen volunteers for Katniss and is forced to fight in the arena while trying to maintain what skewered morality she has left. Alternatively titled, "I Was Reaped At Age Twelve And All I Got Was This Lousy T-Shirt".





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally I was planning on writing a story with Prim trying to stay alive in the arena with Peeta. This was before I realized that I'd much rather create a coming of age story with kids bludgeoning each other instead of boyfriends and exploring friendships and concepts of morality and life within an arena rather than a boarding school in Michigan. This is the result of all that. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

It's not hard to make out the silhouette in the dim morning light, treading carefully across the floorboards light as a feather. The effort is wasted on Prim, who's been wide awake for hours, but she appreciates the courtesy anyway. 

For a moment, she's almost tempted to follow her sister downstairs, across the Seam, into the meadow, through the woods. In some feverish part of her brain, Prim's decided that as long as Katniss is within sight, nothing bad can happen to her. To them. But it's wishful thinking, and Prim has never been good in the woods anyway. 

Instead, she lays on the mattress with her mother for a few more minutes, listening to the soft intake of breath, watching the rise and fall of her chest until she's finally roused from the bed by Buttercup's needy yowl. Dutifully she gets up and feeds him, stroking the matted fur as tenderly as possible.

Buttercup is a beautiful cat- despite the filth of his coat, despite what Katniss says. Prim loves Katniss more than anyone, maybe even more than their mother, but when it comes to Buttercup even she has to admit that they get along like a house on fire.

But Katniss endures him for Prim, and for the most part, there isn't an overabundance of cat killings or face scratchings in the Everdeen household.

Listening to the content purrs emitting from the malnourished cat, Prim almost feels normal. Almost as if this isn't Reaping Day, as if her name isn't going to be put in a delicate glass ball along with her sister's and friends and every young person in District 12. She knows the odds that her name- out of hundreds- will be picked are slimmer than she could've hoped, but that hasn't stopped her from feeling agitated all week. 

But a few taps at the door's all she need to distract her, and despite what day it is and her anxieties and fear, she can't help but crack a huge grin at the sight of Rory Hawthorne standing at her  
threshold.  
"Hi, Prim," he chirps as she gives him a big hug. "Hi, Rory," Prim says with equal verve. "Do you want some tea?"   
Rory agrees happily, and the kitchen is filled with the smell of dandelion tea and cheerful chatter for the better part of an hour. For the most part, they stick to school-related topics and the differences in the quality of game that Katniss and Gale brought in yesterday compared to last winter. They don't talk about the impending Games at all, which brightens Prim up considerably from her sober mood.

Her mother finds them in the kitchen after about a half hour, looking surprised but pleased by Rory's appearance in her kitchen. His mother and Prim's had been friends since childhood, and both Rory and Gale are talked about with distant but warm affection in the house. She fixes them a meager breakfast of ration bread and some leftover game, but since Prim isn't quite sure she'll be able to force it down, she gives it to Rory, who looks immensely pleased even though the ration bread tastes like sawdust. Of course, one can't be picky in District 12, and Prim feels guilty just by thinking it, but it doesn't change the texture or taste of the bread- or, for that matter, the fact that she can see both their ribs sticking out despite the bundles of clothing they're wearing.

That's one good thing about the Game. If their District wins- which is unlikely, but there's a first for everything, after all-, they'd get all sorts of food and goods for a year. The thought of being able to sink her teeth in actual bread- the kind of bread that sits in the display case of the baker's house, makes Prim nearly salvitate. But Rory doesn't seem to mind the consistency in the bread, and he seems happy enough, so Prim ends up not saying anything and just watches him chew happily, spitting crumbs everywhere as he talks.

Prim's mother turns to her with an almost teasing smile after he leaves. Prim feels herself smiling back almost automatically. It feels good to have Mom back, after she had been depressed for so long since Prim's father died in the mines. For a while Prim thought her mother would never resurface, but here she is now, teasing her about having a crush on Rory, which is laughable but oddly sweet to think about. 

Really, the morning would be perfect if only Katniss would show up already. But she's still in the woods so Prim decides to just get ready for the Reaping. Her mother helps her put on Katniss's first Reaping outfit, a pretty but very big skirt and shirt that she has to tuck in multiple times before it stays.

Katniss has a much nicer outfit, she thinks, as her sister finally shows up. She looks clean and fresh in her blue dress, with her hair pulled up in intricate braids. It's on the tip of Prim's tongue to beg her mother to do the same with hers, but Katniss assures her she looks beautiful with her simple braids and clothing, and Prim can't help but feel reassured by her sister's easy smile. And anyway, Reapings aren't beauty contests. It really doesn't matter how she looks, as long as she just gets out of there soon.  
________________________________________

The atmosphere of the square is really the worst part of the entire ordeal. The dread hangs in the air like a tangible thing, blocking Prim's windpipe as she struggles to keep calm. Katniss is out of sight and that's not good for her nerves at all.

 _I can do this_ , she reminds herself, and it's an odd feeling to try and be patient with herself. But try she must; she isn't going to be set off by the crooked men betting whose names are going to be picked, or the young girl quietly crying beside her. She's going to get through today, and after that, she'll be able to return to herself. Because what she is right now is most definitely not herself.

Effie Trinket is smiling on stage and it  
feels as fake and artificial as the color of her bubblegum pink hair. The blame isn't entirely on Effie, of course- Katniss used to say that it was the whole speech, propaganda used to brainwash people. This was before their mother started shooting Katniss dark looks whenever she talked that way, and for the most part she hasn't since.

But the traitorous thought still enters Prim's brain, and she shakes it off, feeling uncomfortable and disturbed, though the names haven't even been called yet.

Prim begins to breathe a little as she catches Rory smiling at her from across the crowd, rolling his eyes and making an exaggerated gagging gesture. She's going to make it. She's going to make it and this will all be over soon. She'll probably even laugh at her earlier fear. After all, there was such little chance that her name would be called it's redundant to even think otherwise.  
She watches Effie dig her beautifully manicured fingers into he glass ball full of slips. Her lips move and the first emotion that hits Prim is relief, immense relief that her name isn't the one that's called. And then horror. 

Because it isn't her name that's called. It's Katniss Everdeen.  
_______________________________________

Once, when Prim was younger, her father had taught her how to sing to the mocking jays that lived in the Meadow. Whenever he sang, they always fell silent at the sound of his voice. An anticipated hush, a waiting for something incredible happen.

As Prim watches her sister make slow but sure steps towards the stage, she feels that same hush fall over her. That waiting for something incredible, for something extraordinary to happen. But there is nothing. Nothing but the quiet scuffle of reluctant steps making their way across pavement. 

It's the sight of Katniss's braid that snaps Prim into action. She screams her name and prepares herself to push across the crowd, but there's no need. The people part and make a road to where Katniss is almost reaching the steps.

"Katniss!" Prim gasps, desperate like a wild animal. "Katniss!" 

Katniss looks over with wide eyes as her younger sister pushes her back and stands in her place. She realizes too late what Prim is going to do and opens her mouth to protest, but the words are already rushing out of her mouth before Katniss has a chance to stop them.

"I volunteer! I volunteer!" She cries, still in that desperate, breathless way, as if they're going to take Katniss away regardless of her screams. Inhale. "I volunteer as tribute!"

The only sound that can be heard in the square is Katniss's screams and cries, her arms encircling Prim's shaking body so tightly she can't breathe. Gale comes to her rescue then, grabbing Katniss and pulling her off Prim with tears in his eyes.  
"Up you go, kiddo," he says, Katniss still screaming and trying to claw her way back to Prim.

District 12 hasn't had a volunteer for as long as Prim can remember, but even she knows the protocol. Once a tribute's name is called, an eligible girl- if the tribute called is a girl- or boy- if the tribute is a boy- can step forward. Prim has heard that some Districts- wealthier Districts- have people volunteer for honor or fame. But in District 12, where the chances of surviving are slim to none, volunteers like Prim are a rare species.

Even Effie seems confused. She stammers about introducing the reaped first and then asking for volunteers, but the mayor cuts her off. 

"What does it matter?" He asks gruffly, looking at Prim with pain in his eyes. He knows her. Her helping hands that cured an awful cough last winter. Her bright greetings whenever their paths cross. Her passing his house on the way to school and stopping to admire his roses. "Let her come." 

Prim does. She mounts the stage while Effie gushes about how brave she is  
for such a young girl. Prim doesn't bother telling her that age has nothing to do with it. Somehow, she doesn't think it'll make a difference.

"That's the spirit of the games!" Effie chirps out anyway. "What's your name?"  
"Prim," Prim says. "Primrose Everdeen."  
"I bet my buttons that was your sister." A jerky, lightning-quick nod. "Don't want her to steal all the glory, do we? Come on, everybody! Let's give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!" 

But they do not clap. Not a single one. Instead, they do something particularly singularly. Every single person in the crowd- from the ones with bone dry faces to the ones with tears running down their cheeks, the ones who know Prim, which seems to be most of the crowd- all puts their three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips and hold it out to Prim. 

She can't help it as a small sob wracks her body. The gesture is the same one she used as she watched an empty coffin get lowered into the ground five years ago- her father's coffin-, a gesture that means thanks, admiration, goodbye to someone you love. Prim swallows hard and tries to wipe away her tears before anyone notices, but Haymitch comes to her rescue almost instantly. He wraps an arm around her shoulders and points to the camera. 

"Look at her! Look at this little girl!" He hollers, and the stench of alcohol on his breath makes Prim desperately want to shy away, to duck out of his embrace and run for the comfort and familiarity of her sister and mother. "Lots of- bravery! More than you! More than you!"

He chooses this moment to pass out off the stage, making Prim jump a little. Effie seems understandably disgusted, but manages to put on a big smile as the cameras turn back to her. 

"So much excitement! But more excitement is on our way- it's time to choose the boy tribute!"

As she digs through the glass ball containing the slips of names, Prim takes a moment to compose herself. To look through the crowd and find her mother, tears streaming down her face and a hand pushed against her face; to see Rory staring up at her with all the blood drained out of his face; to watch Katniss sobbing as quietly as she can manage while a girl beside her rubs patterns on her back. 

She swallows back the tears that threaten to overcome her once more, and instead focuses on Effie's lips- stained with purple as though she'd smeared berries over her mouth- as they open and part with one unlucky boy's name.

"Rory Hawthorne."

A small, choked sound forces it's way out of Prim before she can stop it. Her eyes make their way through the sea of pale faces until they land on Gale's, as numb as a patient on anesthetics. _Help him_ , she silently pleads. _Do something. Don't let him die, not like this._  
But as Rory makes stiff steps towards the stage, Gale's face hardens in resignation. Prim can almost see the gears turning in his head, his thoughts angry hornets with stingers of logic and reason. She knows exactly as well as he does that there will be no one left to support their family if he volunteers. Hazelle Hawthorne and her family are poor enough even by Seam standards, and without Gale's daily hunting trips they'd almost certainly have starved to death a long time ago. And then where would Rory be?

The discontent moves through the crowd like waves. Not one, but two twelve-year-olds have been Reaped this year. Someone shouts something indecipherable in the middle of the square, and Prim and Rory are barely able to shake hands before the crowd surges forward.

They're ushered into the Justice Building, and the next thing Prim knows is that she's standing in a room larger than her house as Peacekeepers herd the crowd back through the window. 

She breathes, long and hard. Tears prickle at her eyes, but she wipes them away quickly with the back of her hand. It wouldn't do well for the cameras to catch her with tears dripping down her face. And anyway, if Prim starts crying now she doesn't think she'd be able to stop.

There's a beautiful velvet couch centered in the middle of the room's lavish carpet, but Prim sits on the carpet instead and rolls the ends with her fingers, feeling a wave of calm wash over her as she does so, and wondering mildly who's going to wash Dad's mirror when she's gone. 

The door swings open suddenly and then there's Katniss in a wave of dark braid and elbows as she sweeps up Prim. She sits on the couch and puts her on her lap, pressing her face into the crook of Prim's shoulder as she cries. Their mother takes a seat beside Prim and hugs them both in her arms, and the combined rain of tears is almost enough to leave the twelve-year-old soaked.  
She lets them mourn over her for a little while, mourn the way they could not over her father, until she gently pushes them away and clears her throat purposefully.

"Mom," she says. Her mother looks at her with the same blue eyes Prim sees in the mirror everyday, only they're brimming with tears and wetness and look tired as Prim's never had.

"Mom. I need you to milk Lady while I'm- away. Katniss can teach you but she's probably going to be busy in the- you know." She doesn't think it'd be wise to talk about Katniss's activities in the woods with Peacekeepers right outside their doors. "Remember to keep stock of medicines and herbs for the patients. And if I- you know, you can't go back to the way it used to be. Katniss needs you."

Katniss looks as though she'd like to object but Mom's already nodding, so Prim turns back to her sister. "And Katniss. You've got to watch over her, okay? Wash Dad's mirror and please, please don't fight with Buttercup."

Katniss laughs wetly and hugs Prim close to her chest. Prim allows herself to feel safe for a second before Katniss tightens her grip and pulls back a little.

"Prim." Katniss says, gray eyes burrowing intensely into Prim's. "You have a chance of winning this. If you get a chance to use a weapon use it. You remember what I taught you in the woods, right?"

Prim furrows her brow. She's horrible with a bow-and-arrow. It's always been Katniss who's been the hunter, the fighter. She used to take Prim into the woods when they were younger, but it was kind of a disaster. Prim kept on crying whenever she shot a deer or little rabbit. 

But judging from the look on Katniss's face, moment of that matters now. Prim nods rigidly and tries to squirm out of her grip. Katniss doesn't let go, though.

"Prim, listen to me- listen to me! You get your hands on a weapon and you don't hesitate to use it, okay? Nobody is your friend in that arena. You can only trust yourself."

"But I don't want to kill anyone." It comes out as barely a whisper. Prim lowers her eyes to the floor and wills herself not to cry.

"Sometimes it's not that easy." Katniss says.

And then the Peacekeeper is at the door and Prim is tightening her grip around Katniss's neck and saying she loves them both and gentle hands untangle her grip and then they're both gone and the door is shutting with a soft whoosh, and Prim allows herself to cry for the first time since the Reaping, cameras be damned.

The baker comes next. He smiles down at Prim with unbearably sad eyes, and presents her a small box of cookies wrapped in a white paper package. They're lovely, but Prim has no intention of eating them. She doesn't think she can hold anything down at the moment.  
Still, she thanks the baker kindly for his gift. He gives a slight nod before his arms are suddenly coming around her, strong and sure and with only the slightest of trembles.

She doesn't know what has come over him- their interactions are usually limited to her ooh-ing and ahh-ing over his delicacies- but she returns the hug anyway.

"Be safe," he says, and then leaves before she can tell him to wait.

A flood of visitors follow after the baker. People that Prim have fixed coughs and mended broken bones for, who have been the receiving end of her cheerful "good mornings", who have somehow allowed themselves to think of her as a constant in their lives only to have her snatched away. 

There's Greasy Sae and her granddaughter, there's the butcher and his wife and children who are much too young to do anything but coo at Prim, there's Katniss's friend, Madge, who gives her a small golden mockingjay pin, there's her classmates and people who knew her mother when she was younger; there's so many people that, by the time the last visitor arrives, Prim would like nothing better than to take a long nap. 

But when she looks up it's Hazelle Hawthorne, and this wakens her quicker than caffeine.The wave of guilt and shame washes over Prim so intensely her legs start to shake, and it's only thanks to Hazelle's arms wrapping around Prim that she hasn't collapsed on the floor yet. 

"It's not your fault," she says, and her voice sounds old, older than her thirty-something years. "No matter what happens in the arena, it isn't your fault, Prim."

Prim bursts into tears and cries into Hazelle's blouse. She tries to apologize through her sobs, but this only makes her cry harder, and the Peacekeepers usher Hazelle out before Prim can even begin to muster a decent apology.  
_______________________________________  
The train that is supposed to take them to the Capitol is large enough to fit the Seam and leave room, and for a moment Prim feels like she's drunken a potion that makes the world bigger- or her smaller. 

Not even the cameras swarming around Prim can fully distract her from the immensity of the giant box cars. They are forced to stand in the doorway of the trains as reporters yell questions and cameras snap bright lights in their direction before they are, mercifully, allowed to step inside and go to their assigned living quarters. Prim heads off to her bathroom, turns the shower knob, and allows herself to cry as the warm water runs over her like sweet summer rain.

When she gets out, it's nearly dinner. She waits as long as she dares before dressing in a long blue skirt and white blouse almost akin to the outfit she wore at the Reaping. As an afterthought, she grabs the Mockingjay pin and fixes it on her blouse before Effie comes to escort her to the dining car.

Rory is sitting at the table, surrounded by beautiful china plates that are probably worth more than the yearly income of a coal miner in the Seam. He looks uncomfortable surrounded by the finery, which doesn't surprise Prim, considering the closest thing they get to finery is bringing out the chipped glass bowls they eat dandelion stew out of.

"Where's Haymitch?" Effie asks.

"Taking a nap, I think," Rory says cautiously. "He said he was tired."

"Well, who wouldn't be after this exciting day?" Effie chirps brightly, but deep down Prim thinks she's secretly relieved by Haymitch's absence. She is, too, but for other reasons- the smell of alcohol makes her queasy, and Haymitch smells enough of it that she's afraid to let him near an open flame.

They take seats down at the table and listen to Effie chatter about this and that as dishes are placed in front of them. The smells are intoxicating enough, but the food puts it to shame. There's soup thick with vegetables and beef- actual beef, not wild dog like Greasy Sae sells-, herb-roasted chicken and lamb chops, biscuits dripping with butter, bread smothered with rich white cheese that reminds Prim of Lady's as she sinks her teeth into it. She's full by the time dessert comes around, but she manages to eat a slice before placing her knife and fork down on the platter. 

"At least you two have manners," Effie comments after a while. "The pair last year were absolute barbarians; they ate everything with their hands. Could you imagine?"

The observation sits wrong with Prim, but before she can comment on it Effie stands up and leads them to another compartment to watch the recap of reapings from each district. There are several that stand out in Prim's mind- a lovely girl from District 1 with eyes as blue as Prim's skirt, a sly young woman from District 4 with the reddest hair Prim's ever laid eyes on, a large older boy from District 12 with a dangerous gleam in his eyes. And his partner, a girl the same age as Prim. Prim's eyes linger on her longer than the others. Aside from the coloring- dark-skinned with large brown eyes and short brown hair-, she could be Prim's twin, for her size and demeanor. 

But unlike Prim, nobody volunteers for her. The silence that pervades the square is thick and unyielding, and she takes her place on stage with a surprisingly steady step. Nobody tries to stop her.

Finally, there's District 12. Katniss being called, Prim rushing forward to volunteer. Her voice sounds younger than usual as she calls her older sister's name, panicked and shaky. And as she turns to walk up the stage, she can see that the back of her blouse has been undone. Again.

The commenters relish how young Prim is- Rory, too-, but they're unsure on what to say on the District's refusal to applaud. One comments that though old-fashioned, District 12 has charming customs, and almost as if he's heard them Haymitch falls off the stage. The commenters groan comically, still laughing a little as Rory's name is called and shakes Prim's hand. The anthem plays as the program ends, and as they watch a commercial for Lucia Goldenglow's new clothing line Effie stands up and shuts down the TV. 

"They cut off the part where the crowd went crazy," Rory observes, and Prim feels suspiciously Katniss-like as she opens her mouth to explain exactly why the Capitol wouldn't broadcast a District showing even the slightest hint of rebellion. But her mouth shuts as she notices the look on Effie's face, and she's suddenly reminded of her mother scolding Katniss for talking against the Capitol to strangers in the Hob. It doesn't matter anyway; Rory will learn about indiscretion soon enough, if Effie has anything to say about it.

The door swings open behind them, and Haymitch suddenly staggers in, stinking of various liquors and spirits as he makes his way over to them. 

"I miss anything?" He mumbles, and then promptly vomits on Effie's shoes. 

She shrieks and jumps away as he falls into his own sick, sending splatters of it onto Rory and Prim, who exchange a sickened look with each other as Effie storms off in search of an Avox to clean up the mess.

"What are we going to do?" Rory asks, and Prim takes in a deep breath before climbing off the couch and getting on one side of Haymitch.

"We're going to get him up," she says resolutely, offering no alternative in her tone of voice. Rory shudders but gets on Haymitch's other side and lifts. The vomit rolls down either side of his mouth, and the smell alone is nearly enough to make Prim lose her dinner. 

Instead she gently lays him on the couch, ignoring Rory's gagging, and carefully steps around the puddle of sick to lay the man's head on a cushion.

"Effie will take care of the rest," she reassures Rory. She feels slightly guilty for leaving the mess to Effie, but even if she was strong enough to carry Haymitch away she isn't even sure where his sleeping quarters were.

She does know where Rory's is, though, and she walks him back to them with a promise to wash the splatters of vomit off his clothing before returning to the safety of her own bedroom. 

She lays on the bed, not even bothering to take off her clothing as she pulls the covers over her body. She doesn't realize she's shaking until she notices the bag of cookies the baker had given her nearly falling off the edge of the bed because of the vibrations she's causing. She grabs the cookies and hugs them close to her chest, feeling a mild wave of disgust and dull grief as she goes over the events of the day.

Was it only several hours ago she and Rory were sipping tea and discussing the quality of the game that Katniss and Gale bring home? Surely not. That was days ago, maybe even weeks. But not hours. Not now, when she's in a train on its way to a strange, sparkling land where people are going to turn on their televisions and watch her fight to the death. Not now, when she's surrounded by a lavish comforter and soft cushions that cost more than what the average coal miner in District 12 gets a year. It's too overwhelming to think about, and yet, she can't think about anything else.

Mom and Katniss are probably back at home right now. No, Mom is- Katniss is almost certainly in the woods, taking out her frustration and grief on some poor rabbit who had the misfortune to be in her way. Prim allows herself to smile at the thought. Katniss always did take out her grief in the woods. It's the only place she can ever truly be herself.

No, Katniss is safe. Heartbroken and raging, yes, but she's safe. It's Prim's mother she's concerned about. She might have another relapse, like she did when Mr. Everdeen was blown to bits in that mining explosion, and then where would Katniss be? 

During that period of time, when Mom was in that dark place of hers, and the only thing that was keeping Prim alive was Katniss, Prim knew she owed Katniss a debt that she could never make up. Katniss kept her alive, plain and simple. Maybe surviving the Games was the only way to make up that debt. Maybe coming back in one piece could alleviate that feeling of gratitude for keeping them both safe from the orphanage, which was worse than death itself. She saw the angry scratches on those orphan children's skin and knew she wouldn't last a day in the Home. Katniss made sure it stayed that way until their mother resurfaced. 

She knew that Katniss loved her more than anything in the world. She didn't have an inflated sense of self or anything- it was the truth, plain and simple. Katniss depended on Prim to keep he sane just as much as Prim depended on Katniss to keep them alive. She didn't even want to think about what her death would do to Katniss. 

Her only option, really, was to keep herself alive. She couldn't think of anything else. She just had to keep herself- and Rory- alive until the end, and after that, what would happen would happen. But before then, she was going to stay alive. For Katniss. For her mother. For Buttercup. For Lady. And maybe, she allowed herself to think, for herself. She allows herself to hold onto the thought until sleep overcomes her, and she knows nothing at all.


End file.
